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		DAMSELS UNDER GLASS: THE SERIES
		Jodi's Story: R-E-S-P-E-C-T WITH A CHERRY ON TOP  ———————————————————————— by Van © 2005
		Chapter 8

Ronnie savored the feel of the sun and sand against her naked skin.  She was on a tropical beach someplace... blue skies, turquoise water lapping the sand, breakers crashing on a distant reef, seabirds circling overhead, palm trees transitioning into a rainforest...  and it was real, not VR.  But she'd worry about that later, as right now she was enjoying being lazy.

Her mind drifted back to recent "events".  Back in Kiki's quarters, the "saddle of heaven" had subjected her to one orgasm after another, until she'd slumped in her bonds and passed into blessed oblivion.  And when she awoke, things were different.

For one thing, as promised, Kiki Ohana was now a fully computer generated character, no longer directly linked to a living, human personality.  Ronnie could tell from the way she moved, and the "flat" quality of their mannerisms.  The Aztec-Hawaiian officer had changed into her uniform: Imperial Air Armada Service Dress, Tropical.  It consisted of thigh boots, a bikini bottom with a long flap to suggest the traditional loincloth, a bustier, and the shoulderpads designating her officer status.  All were red-dyed leather or silk, with gold piping.  A gold choker with a fetish identifying Kiki as a devotee of Pele was around her throat, and a disturbingly large whip completed the picture.

The other change was the technical manner in which the scenario was unfolding.  Rather than the fully developed settings and interactions Ronnie had experienced earlier, everything was rather tentative and sketchy.  It was "storyboard mode", which the development teams often used to test new plot ideas.  Computer generated outlines and fragments of more developed scenarios were cobbled together, with little regard for preserving the illusion of reality.  Some wag on the Seattle Air Pirates! team had dubbed it "Yadda-cubed Mode" (as in "yadda-yadda-yadda").

Kiki subjected Ronnie to a rather perfunctory and forgettable gloating scene, then the guards had reappeared and released her from the vertical rack.  Still gagged with her own loincloth, otherwise naked and in chains, Ronnie was hustled through the Aztec-Hawaiian base.  She saw Washi fighters lined up on a runway, troops drilling on a parade ground, and Yantata patrol bombers on a seaplane ramp.  A Mano-class cruiser and two Auatic- class destroyers were at anchor in the lagoon.

There was also an airship moored to a tower, but when Ronnie lifted her gaze, all she saw was a wire diagram.  Obviously, the design was still a work-in-progress.  Ronnie was dragged into the tower and to an elevator.  There was a rapid trip upwards, the doors opened, and prisoner and guards crossed a causeway into the belly of the airship.

At that point, Virtual Reality had wavered, and snapped into sharp focus.  The airship was a slave galley.  Row upon row of benches were occupied by naked women, dressed only in burlap loincloths, their wrists locked in manacles, their hands resting on huge wooden "oars".  Ronnie was familiar with the design concept.  The oars were actually levers attached to eccentric gears entrained to long drive shafts.  When the oars were "rowed", the drive shafts spun massive flywheels, which charged turbines, which powered the airship's propellers.

A slave galley airship made no sense whatsoever, of course, except in the world of Air Pirates!  A male member of the development team had come up with the idea, suggesting the nearly silent propulsion system would make it possible for Aztec-Hawaiian airships to sneak up on Republican bases and insert commando teams or secret agents.  This had resulted in him being subjected to derisive raspberries, catcalls, and a hail of crumpled paper.  But then someone put together a quick simulation of dozens of semi-naked, chained, sweating women straining at oars as Aztec-Hawaiian slave-mistresses with whips provided motivation... and the team realized it was perfect Air Pirates!  Absurd, but perfect.

Ronnie was dragged to an empty seat, plopped down on the hard wood, and her manacles locked to one of the chains dangling from the overhead.  Her fellow prisoners were of every race and description: blondes from the Kingdom of the Ice Maidens; dusky beauties from the Ashanti Confederation; Hindi damsels with the lithe, willowy bodies of dancers; Han maidens, delicate but strong—even what were obviously Aztec-Hawaiian political prisoners.  Every region of the globe (including Ronnie's Grand Republic) was represented.

Kiki Ohana favored Ronnie with one final tirade of gloating—ceaseless toil and deprivation followed by torture and interrogation at the conclusion of the current mission (yadda-yadda-yadda)—then disappeared in a flurry of flapping loincloth silk.

Toil and deprivation had followed, as well as fellowship and stolen moments of comfort with her fellow captives, but all this was even more sketchy and devoid of depth, as if the scenario was on fast-forward.

Slave revolt— Kiki escaping via a parasite fighter slung under the airship—Ronnie being knocked overboard during the final assault on the bridge—treading water in mid-ocean as the airship disappeared towards the horizon.  It was all very tentative, including the experience of swimming towards a tropical island, fighting off an attacking shark, picking her way over the reef, and staggering out of the water and onto the white sand of an idyllic but deserted beach.

Ronnie had collapsed in total exhaustion...

...And now, here she was.  The sun was near the zenith, but was it AM or PM?

Ronnie sat up, stretched, and yawned.  Now fully rested and alert, she examined her surroundings, taking stock of the situation.  Tropical, beautiful, and absolutely no sign of human presence (other than herself).  A personal inventory of survival aids took no time at all.  She was completely nude, no loincloth or chains, and even the items of jewelry she'd been wearing at the time of her abduction in Seattle (ear posts, bellybutton post, and thin gold chain) were missing.

So... what now?  What did Margo have in mind?  Ronnie had been kidnapped, drugged, transported to what by all appearances was a tropical paradise (while being "entertained" in route), and now was abandoned, naked as a newborn babe.

Ronnie stood, brushed the sand from her rear, shielded her eyes, and scanned the ocean horizon.  Nothing.  She looked down the beach to the left, then to the right.  In both directions the beach curved to distant, rocky points.  Finally, she turned and gazed into the interior.

Under the nearby palms, the terrain was relatively open; but beyond, the rainforest loomed like a green wall.  Ronnie stepped forward, and found what might be the start of a faint trail.  The ground next to the trailhead was damp, and Ronnie parted the brush to find a tiny, trickling stream winding from the direction of the mountains and disappearing under the sand of the beach.

Trekking through the jungle without anything to protect her skin might be difficult, but if she stayed on the beach she'd probably develop a serious sunburn, and there ought to be more abundant fresh water upstream.  Ronnie ducked between the branches and let them close behind her.  There was a path, and it was sandy beneath her bare feet.  She picked her way carefully, avoiding the occasional twig or fallen branch.

The green canopy closed overhead, sand gave way to leaf litter, and tangled tree roots became her most troublesome obstacles.  Salt air was replaced by the humid aroma of decaying vegetation.

"Lost?"

Ronnie flinched and looked from side to side, then front and back.  She could see nothing but jungle.  "Who's there?" she demanded.

"It's difficult to localize sounds under the trees, isn't it?"

The voice was female, and rather husky.  Ronnie smiled, took a step forward, and looked up.  "Hello, Kat."

Margo's bodyguard was poised on a tree limb, several yards overhead.  She was dressed in a skimpy bikini of what appeared to be black fur.

"Ms. Allbriton," Kat called down from above.  "It's good to... see you."

Ronnie's smile broadened.  Months before, she'd have been quite embarrassed to be found wandering around a rainforest in the nude, but that was before her VR adventure in ancient Kul'Dakar, before her period of rest and recovery as Margo's special guest, and before she'd met Katherine Mayfair.

"Nice outfit," Ronnie said.

"I like yours, too," Kat responded, then leaped from her perch with acrobatic grace, and landed a few yards from Ronnie.

"So," Ronnie said with an amused smirk, "Margo sends a jungle girl as escort?"

Kat's expression was amused as well.  "I like you, Brown Eyes," she purred.  "No cringing or hysterics or histrionics... just graceful surrender in the face of overwhelming odds."

"Surrender?  Who said anything about surrender?"

Kat's smile broadened.  "You want to have a go?  Really?"

Ronnie stretched and rolled her shoulders, then formed her hands into fists and settled into ready stance.

Kat was still amused, but there was respect in her eyes.  "Tae Bo may be good exercise," she said in an alto whisper, "but it's not a true martial art."

Ronnie's face showed nothing but polite determination.  "I won't surrender without a fight."

Kat assumed her own fighting stance—then struck, in a blur or kicks and hand-strikes.

Ronnie responded as best she could, but all of her kicks and punches were blocked, parried, or failed to connect entirely.  Surprisingly, none of Kat's kicks or blows landed either.  Her opponent's hands and feet passed millimeters from Ronnie's body, but she remained untouched.  Then Ronnie found herself seized from behind and on her knees.  Her right arm was fully extended, the wrist bent in what she knew would be a very painful hold, if she chose to resist.  Her left arm was twisted behind her back in a hammerlock.  "You're toying with me!" she complained, through clenched teeth.

"I admire your spirit," Kat whispered, her lips less than an inch from the prisoner's right ear.  Ronnie tried for a head-butt, which Kat easily avoided.  "Easy, there," Kat admonished, tightening her grip on Ronnie's right wrist, ever so slightly.

Ronnie winced, and went still.  "Okay, okay, you got me; but I'll escape, the first chance I get."

Kat laughed.  "If I didn't have pressing plans for the afternoon, we could dance some more."

"Any time, Katherine," Ronnie growled.   She was hauled to her feet, her hands pulled behind her back, and her wrists crossed.  What felt like a leather thong tightened around her wrists, and was hitched and knotted.

Kat reached around her prisoner from behind, and cupped Ronnie's breasts.  "When we both have more time," she said, "how'd you like to learn some real fighting moves?"

"You're offering to be my sensei?" Ronnie inquired, a wry smile curling her lips.

"Sensei?  No, just one fighter offering to share a few tricks with another."

Ronnie felt a thrill of pride at being called a fighter by the mighty Kat (and a thrill of arousal as Kat's nimble fingers teased her nipples).  "It's a date," she whispered, then shivered as Kat's hands slid from her breasts to her sex, and began gently caressing her labia.  "Oh!"  She bit her lower lip and gasped as Kat parted her nether lips and began teasing her clitoris.  "I thought you were in a hurry."

"Not that big a hurry," Kat whispered, and thrust her tongue into Ronnie's ear.

"Don't you people ever get tired of these games?" Ronnie demanded, then gasped again as Kat's expert manipulations continued carrying her towards orgasm.

"What do you think?" Kat purred, and forced Ronnie back to her knees.  One hand slid up to her right breast, but the other remained at her sex.

"What do I think?" Ronnie growled.  "I think— M'mmf!"

Kat had silenced her prisoner with a tight hand-gag.  "Hold that thought," she ordered, and brought Ronnie to climax.  The captive shivered and tugged on her bound wrists.  "That's it," Kat cooed, "nice and easy and wet."

While Ronnie was still savoring the afterglow of Kat's expert attention, her captor produced a coil of thin rope, dropped a noose over her head, and snugged it around her throat.  "I hate being led around like somebody's poodle," the panting prisoner muttered.

"Yeah, me too," Kat agreed, and gave Ronnie's rope leash a gentle tug.  "C'mon.  Let's find you a nice kennel... some kibble... a bowl of water..."

"Hilarious," Ronnie grumbled, climbed to her feet, and followed her captor down the trail.  "Maybe someday you'll find yourself in a Kat-harness, with the end of the leash in my hand."

Kat laughed and gave the rope lead a tug.  "Like I said," she purred, "I admire your spirit."

The trail led to a clearing in the jungle.  Ronnie looked up, and discovered a charming little hut of native materials, perched high in a giant tree.

"As cages go," Kat said, "it's not bad."

At Kat's direction, captor and captive walked to a dangling, vine-like rope, and planted the insteps of their bare feet in a stiff loop in the end.  Kat tugged on the rope, held Ronnie close, and they were carried up something like twenty yards to a small platform of what appeared to be sticks lashed together with vines.  Ronnie feared it would be rickety and dangerous, but it proved to be solid and safe.

"Don't worry," Kat explained.  "Everything looks like it's about to rot and fall apart, but it's all made of laminar bamboo and ceramic alloys.  Otherwise it would have to be rebuilt every year."

The platform led to a narrow walkway, which led to the hut itself.  As Kat ushered her towards her "cage", Ronnie caught a glimpse of similar treetop structures, some of them quite large, about a quarter mile away; then they were at the threshold of the hut.  The noose was removed from her throat, a blade flashed, and her wrists were free.

Ronnie watched as Kat opened a small panel beside the door, revealing a very modern, very un-rustic keypad.  Kat pressed a series of buttons, and the door slid open.  Beyond was a surprisingly spacious apartment.  The decor was jungle-chic, of course, with a large platform bed, a wet bar, and a group of what looked like very comfy easy chairs.

"There's fruit and finger sandwiches in the fridge," Kat said, pointing at the bar.  "Only fruit juice and mineral water, I'm afraid.  Margo doesn't want you to get drunk.  Not 'til tonight, anyway."

Ronnie took a tentative step into the apartment, and turned to face her jungle girl hostess.  "Tonight?"

Kat smiled.  "There's clothing in the wardrobe," she said, indicating a bamboo and teak cabinet, "but the door's on a time lock.  Margo doesn't want you rumpling your costume."

Ronnie favored Kat with a resigned smile.  "You aren't going to explain any of this, are you?" she demanded.

Kat tapped a button on the keypad, and instantly a lattice of narrowly spaced bars slid across every window and opening of the apartment, including the door.  "When the chime sounds, get dressed, and meet me down below.  In the meanwhile, if you scream, or otherwise disturb the peace, I'll be back with a gag."  She held up the coil of rope still in her hand.  "And more of this."

"Very dramatic," Ronnie muttered.  "Tell Margo there are a few things she and I need to discuss."

Kat's smile turned decidedly and irritatingly superior.  "Oh, Brown Eyes," she purred, "you have no idea."

The door slid closed, and Ronnie was alone.  She sighed, and shook her head.  "A cage," she mumbled under her breath, walked to the bar, and opened the small refrigerator.  There was a tray of fruit, sandwiches, and hors d'oeuvres, as promised.  Ronnie popped a shrimp and lobster salad canapé in her mouth, then selected a bottle of water, twisted off the cap, and took a swig.

Next, she began inspecting the apartment in detail.  The bed looked very comfortable, with crisp, cool sheets.  She flopped into one of the chairs, then climbed back to her feet and peeked around a bamboo screen.

  Beyond was a compact, modern bathroom, the highlight of which was a large, claw-foot tub.  Fluffy towels hung from a nearby rack.  Ronnie's smile broadened, and she turned the taps on either side of the tub's faucet.  As it filled, she added bubble beads and scented salts.

Ronnie eased herself into the bubbles.  "Ahhh..."  It felt very good.  The salts made the water soothingly slippery.  She lay back in the perfectly shaped tub, soaking in the hot, floral-scented water, with its froth of white foam.

A pampered poodle, Ronnie mused, locked in a luxurious cage.  She wasn't worried about what lay ahead, not even a little, but she was very curious.  What did Margo have in mind?  And how should she react?

Ronnie gathered some bubbles, and blew them from her hands.  The night ahead might be a mystery, but Ronnie was making plans for the immediate future: finish her bath, nibble some lunch, then take a nice... long... nap.  Kat was right.

As cages went, this wasn't bad.

LATER THAT DAY
(AND NOT FAR FROM RONNIE'S "CAGE")

---

Penny groaned and opened her eyes.  She was lying on her stomach, on the rainforest floor, in a small clearing.  She tried to remember what had happened.  She'd been eating breakfast, Margo had given her a refill of papaya juice... and here she was.  It was difficult to move.  She wasn't tied up or in chains or anything... she just couldn't get her muscles to work.

Seconds passed (or was it minutes?), then she sat up.  "What the...?"  She was dressed in brown knee boots, skimpy khaki shorts, and a khaki shirt, its tails tied together below her breasts, baring her midriff.  She didn't seem to be wearing any underwear.  Everything was a half-size too small.  Her breasts bulged against the thin cotton of the blouse, and the crotch of the shorts was giving her a serious camel-toe.

Still dazed and sleepy, Penny climbed to her feet.  She looked up, and found she was under one of the side wings of the treehouse village.  She heard a shuffling noise, turned, and gasped in shock.

Margo was standing directly behind her, dressed in a regal, vaguely Hindu-style costume of blue and gold silk.  Her feet were bare, her stomach bare (like Penny), and gold chains dripping with sapphires decorated her ankles, neck, ear lobes, and various parts of her clothing.  Finally, a crown-like band of gold graced her brow.

Oh—and she was tied-up and gagged!  A white silk scarf tightly cleaved her lips, and soft, golden rope bound her wrists and elbows behind her back.

"Margo!" Penny gasped.  To her surprise, the TESSERACT CEO didn't seem to be particularly upset by her captivity.  Her beautiful brown eyes sparkled above her tight gag.

Penny shook her head, still not fully alert (not alert enough for it to occur to her she ought to be untying Margo, anyway). "What—?"

"Scandalous!" a familiar, soprano voice shouted from above.

Penny looked up, and found she had an audience.  Jamie and Kat were gazing down from one of the many hanging walkways of the treehouse village.

Jamie was in one of her Jungle Jamie costumes, a bikini-like outfit of leopardskin faux-fur.  Animal fang necklaces and torques were around her throat and upper arms, and a bowie knife on her hip.

Kat's costume was similar, only in black faux-fur, and it was even skimpier than Jamie's.  In addition to fang accessories, she had included her jade cat medallion on a leather thong.

Both jungle girls were sexy and dangerous, showing lots of pale and freckled or tan and toned skin.  Jamie's red hair was a riot of copper curls, while Kat's dark locks rolled down her shoulders and back in a cascade of silky waves.

"I knew you were evil, Lady Freddie," Jamie said, "but I never thought you'd kidnap Queen Margo."

Penny blinked in confusion.  "Huh?"

"Were you hoping for ransom?" Jamie continued.  "Planning on looting the Royal Treasury of Opar?"  Jamie turned to Kat.  "I bet she's in cahoots with the High Priestess of the Snake Cult."

"Probably," Kat agreed, her eyes on Penny.

"What?"  Penny shook her head.  "Lady Freddie?  No... no, I'm going to be... I'm Lady Penelope... for the celebration, I mean."  She shook her head again, and the fog finally cleared.  "I'm going to be Lady Penelope for the celebration," she explained.  "I've got a new costume and everything."  ("Lady Penelope" was Penny's role-playing counterpart to "Jungle Jamie", of course.  "Lady Freddie" was Penelope's evil twin, used only when no other villain was available.)

Margo was laughing, despite her gag.  Penny gave her a withering stare, then focused on Kat.  "And who are you supposed to be?" she demanded.

Jamie gasped in mock outrage.  "Don't pretend you don't know, Lady Freddie.  This is Panther Girl, champion of all that's good and right and—"

"I'm not Lady Freddie!" Penny shouted.  "I'm Penelope!"

"As if Lady Pens would be caught dead in a slutty costume like that," Kat purred.

"Arrr!" Penny growled in frustration, then turned to Margo, who was still laughing.  "And you are...?"

"Queen Margo of the Lost City of Opar!" Jamie answered on Margo's behalf, "your kidnap victim."  She turned to Kat.  "We can't possibly let her get away with this, can we?"

"Nope," Kat agreed, shaking her head.

Penny shook her head as well.  "Oh no you don't!  I spent too much time working on this project to spend the celebration as the captured bad guy!"  She then turned and rounded on Margo.  "Stop laughing!" she snapped.  "Stop!  It isn't fair!"

"Tell you what," Kat said as she grabbed hold of a convenient hanging vine and gave it a firm tug, "I'll give you a hundred-count head start.  There's a Zodiac pulled up on the sand at Far Beach.  If you make it there before I catch you, you can be Lady Penelope, and I'll take your place, as the captured, bound and gagged, evil Panther Girl."

Penny knew she'd never beat Kat to Far Beach, not with a thousand-count head start.  "It isn't fair!" she reiterated with a resentful sigh.

"Don't bother trying for the main resort," Kat added.  "Eve has it locked up tight."

"Better get a move on," Jamie suggested, an infuriatingly smile on her smug, freckled face.

"Bloody hell!" Penny swore, then turned and glared at Margo.  "You're lucky I'm such a good sport, or I'd wring your scrawny neck, update my resumé, and find a new job!"  She then flashed a saucy smile, winked at Jamie, and stuck out her tongue at Kat.  "Catch me if you can, Kitty-Kat!" she shouted, and sprinted away, in the general direction of Far Beach.

"I thought she was really mad," Kat said, "right up to the end, there—when she went insane and called me 'Kitty-Kat' to my face."  She tugged the vine again and prepared to swing from the walkway in pursuit.

"She can take a joke," Jamie said, "as you well know; but do me a favor?"

Kat paused, and raised an eyebrow in question.

"Go easy on her?" Jamie continued, with a cajoling little pout of a smile, "for me?"

Kat's smile broadened.  "There's easy... and there's easy.  Don't get your leopardskin knickers in a twist.  You'll get your blonde, tan, frightfully British playmate back in one piece."  She again prepared to pursue her fleeing prey.

"Wait!"

Kat gave an exasperated sigh.  "What now?"

"Aren't you supposed to count to a hundred?" Jamie inquired, batting her eyes and smiling sweetly.

Kat grinned.  "Who has time for that sort of nonsense?" she muttered, leaped over the rail, and swung away.

"Cheater!" Jamie shouted after her fellow jungle girl, then leaned over the railing and smiled down at "Queen Margo".

Margo smiled back, waiting patiently for her rescue.

Jamie grabbed another vine and slid down to the forest floor.  A mischievous smile on her freckled face, the petite redhead sauntered towards her tall, beautiful, bound and gagged boss.  "I suppose you expect me to untie you now," she said, when she was within reach of the royal prisoner.  Margo continued smiling down at Jamie, struggling with theatrical helplessness against her inescapable bonds.  Jamie reached out with her right hand and traced the outline of Margo's navel, then slid her fingers under the front of Margo's skirt, took a firm grip on the waistband, and pulled her into a close embrace.  "I'm not about to let an opportunity like this slip away," she whispered, went up on her toes, and kissed Margo's gagged lips.

Her hand still grasping Margo's waistband, Jamie turned and led her helpless boss towards the nearest rope elevator.  "I figure Panther Girl will take her time capturing Lady Freddie and dragging her back," she explained, "which gives us the rest of the afternoon to test the accessories in the master suite."  She looked back over her shoulder and her smile became treacly sweet.  "Penny designed five different ways to tie someone to the bed... or above it... not to mention the built-in rotating rack feature."

Margo sighed in mock distress, and "allowed" herself to be dragged away.